


somebody catch my breath

by carefulren



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Whump, post episode 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22023223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: Guilt catches up to Din in the form of a panic attack.
Relationships: n/a
Comments: 13
Kudos: 235





	somebody catch my breath

Din flips a few switches, ignoring the grunts and rattles of his ships engines as it slows into autopilot. The kid appears occupied behind him playing with the ball of a handle, and that’s good because he suddenly cannot breathe. His lungs won’t take in air properly because his chest is tight, hot and restricted, and he just needs air. 

He moves from the pilot’s seat and pulls a quick gaze toward the kid. “Stay,” he wheezes out before he staggers toward the back of the ship. As soon as he’s away from dark, wandering eyes, he clutches onto both sides of his helmet and rips the hunk of metal off, letting it fall to the floor from shaking fingers as he coughs harshly around the mass of a lump growing in his throat. 

He can physically feel his heart hammering against his ribs, quick, uneven, rapid beats that hurt, and he moves one hand to his chest, clutching at the cool metal, fingers trying to dig past it, trying to get to his heart. 

He didn’t mean for IG to self-destruct to save them. He didn’t mean for Kuiil to die on his behalf. He didn’t mean to put targets on Cara and Greef’s backs. He didn’t mean for everything to go to shit all because of him. 

“Fuck,” he curses around a cough. He’s shaking from head to toe, and he feels physically weak. His body feels heavy and slow, yet his mind is racing faster than a fine-tuned speeder bike. All of his mistakes, all of their sacrifices, keep playing on a loop in his mind. He kills– it’s a part of his job. People aren’t supposed to die for him, only by his hand with good reason and handsome pay. 

He moves his hands until he’s gripping the small table in front of him hard enough that his knuckles fade to white under his gloves. His chest is heaving, struggling to suck in a breath, and sweat’s beading at his temples and sliding down his bruised and bloody face. 

For a moment, he wishes he could alter time so he could go far, far back until he’s never met Cara or Kuiil, until it was just him and the kid running from trackers. At least then… 

“Fuck,” he repeats. Tears slide down his cheeks, mixing in with sweat and blood, and his vision is beginning to fade gray around the edges. Blood is rushing in his ears, sounding like crashing waves that mute all other sounds. His lungs are burning from lack of air, and he’s suddenly far too hot. He’s going to pass out because he can’t fucking breathe, but then he hears a faint, small coo behind him, and every trembling limb goes rigid. 

He freezes. It feels as if time jerks to a halt, but that one, small sound of hope swells over him, breaking down the barrier built around his lungs, and he’s able to suck in a long, deep breath. It hurts, but it’s effective. His vision starts to clear, and the tremors that were previously jolting across his limbs begin to subside. 

Slowly, he spins around until he’s facing the kid. He feels vulnerable, exposed, weak, but then the kid smiles at him and lifts his small hand. Din can only watch as his helmet is lifted from the ground until it’s hovering in front of his face. He grabs it, frowning when the kid stumbles back until he’s seated on the floor, yet the kid giggles and locks dark eyes with Din’s wide, serious ones. 

They share, Din thinks, a silent conversation, a moment of understanding, the protected reassuring the protector, and he nods against a low, deep sigh, as if breathing out all of his anxiety in one, long puff of air. He slips his helmet on, feeling stronger behind the cool metal, and he lifts the kid up in one quick swoop and starts back toward the front of the ship. 

He can’t break down, not now, not when he faces his most important mission. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated. 
> 
> Please feel free to swing by my tumblr (toosicktoocare) and drop a prompt in my inbox if you want :)
> 
> Maybe one day I can come up with a prompt and write it to actually be 1k words or longer, lmao
> 
> (Din or Dyn??)


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